


Show Me Your Love (Before the World Catches Up)

by punk_rock_yuppie



Category: South Park
Genre: Friends to Lovers to Boyfriends, M/M, Misunderstandings, Pining, handjobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-12
Updated: 2016-01-12
Packaged: 2018-05-13 09:59:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5703496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/punk_rock_yuppie/pseuds/punk_rock_yuppie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>You've got a pocket full of reasons why you're here tonight, so, baby, tonight just be the death of me.</i><br/> </p><p>Stan didn’t know he wanted it as badly as he had, but now he can’t imagine going another day without it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Show Me Your Love (Before the World Catches Up)

**Author's Note:**

> This is another rewrite of a really old fic of mine. The original fic was titled 'Viva la Vida', published on ff.net in like 2009. Really pleased with how this one came out. 
> 
> Written to the tune of [Collar Full by Panic! at the Disco](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yZAIEAG6Vgk), highly recommend listening to that while reading.
> 
> Reminder that I'm taking South Park fic prompts over at [my tumblr](http://punk-rock-yuppie.tumblr.com/)!

_I've got a collar full of chemistry from your company, so tonight I'll be the libertine._

)

Stan scrambles to stand, tripping over the carefully laid out blankets and pillows—standard for a guy’s night between him and Kyle—before hurrying downstairs to the front door. Randy barely looks up from where he sits, drunk on the couch; Sharon smiles at Stan as he skids by to the door. Kyle stands on the other side, breathe billowing out in a small fog with each exhale. By the time Stan actually gets the door open, Kyle’s face is pink and his nose is practically cherry red.

“Sorry,” Stan says as he grabs Kyle by the arm and hauls him inside. “You’re early, dude.” Stan adds by way of explanation.

Kyle shrugs. “You know me.”

Stan squints at his friend. Stan may be lauded as the most oblivious boy in school, but even _he_ knows when something is up with Kyle. He doesn’t comment on it, though: not on the odd lilt of Kyle’s tone and not the way his green eyes shift nervously. Instead, Stan just gestures for Kyle to follow, and the red head does exactly that.

“I got it all set up.” Stan changes topic as they take the stairs. “Blankets, pillows, popcorn, a shit ton of soda.” When Stan looks over his shoulder at Kyle, a few steps behind, he’s even more put off by the polite smile in place rather than a usual splitting grin. Still, though, Stan doesn’t comment. “Got video games and even managed to get that new Seth Rogan movie from the video store.”

Eventually, what seems like an eternity later, they make it into Stan’s room. Kyle sheds his backpack—which holds his pajamas and the homework they’re supposed to be doing—and plops onto his usual pillow. He looks up at Stan, cheeks still flushed and smile still… not _right_. Stan drops down as well, landing on his own pillow, and stares at Kyle.

“Okay, what’s up with you?” Stan asks after a far too long silence. He had expected Kyle to break under just a firm stare, but no such luck was had. “I know you were dying to see this stupid movie, that’s why I got it.” Stan gestures to _The Night Before_ that sits not far from them, next to an impressive stack of games and DVDs.

Kyle shrugs. “I don’t know what you mean. I’m just tired.” Kyle lies. “We _do_ have a lot of fucking homework we should be working on.” As he speaks, Kyle reaches for his backpack to pull out a few notebooks worth of notes. “Plus, we’ve got those AP tests coming up and even though you’re guaranteed with a football scholarship wherever you go, some of us really need to study.”

Stan sits back. “Dude, what’s your problem?” He asks again. “Whatever it is, you don’t have to lie or take it out on me, fucking Christ.” Stan shifts so that he’s sitting directly in front of Kyle, both of them still on pillows. “Talk to me, dude.”

Kyle bits his lips and worries it between his teeth until it’s dangerously red. “I’m scared?” He tries again.

Stan can _almost_ believe that, so he takes the bait. “Of college? Dude, so am I. You don’t even have a reason to be scared, you know you’ll get into whatever school you want.”

“Yeah but—” Kyle cuts off abruptly. “It probably won’t be the same school as you.”

Stan tilts his head in confusion. “Well… yeah. I’m only going cuz of the scholarship, and cuz my mom really wants me to.” He shrugs. “I’ll probably just get some bullshit degree and do fuckall with it.” He grins. “You’re gonna get some kickass degree and be saving lives and fucking be awesome, dude.”

Despite the small, more genuine smile curling at the red head’s lips, Kyle doesn’t seem entirely convinced.

“I never—I never knew you wanted to go to the same school?” Stan adds when Kyle makes no move to fill the void. “I just always figured we’d end up in different places. That’s not a bad thing. I mean,” Stan scratches the back of his neck as a blush begins to form. “I’m gonna miss you dude, of course I am, but I just always figured that was part of growing up.

“Besides, we’re always gonna be best friends, regardless of what schools we go to.”

Stan doesn’t miss the way Kyle’s whole body stiffens. He doesn’t miss the way Kyle’s breathing changes from quick and uneasy to ragged and deep. Stan waits, though, scared to interrupt and make things worse.

Eventually, Kyle opens his mouth. “Do you think you would do anything for me?” Kyle asks, quiet and barely heard over Randy shouting downstairs.

Stan leans in slowly. “Of course, you know I would.”

Kyle looks up from his lap, where his hands have been fidgeting endlessly, and suddenly he and Stan are nose to nose.

“Why do you—?” Stan is cut off by Kyle closing the last bit of distance between them, lips to lips moving slowly together. Stan’s noise of surprise is muffled, lost in their synced breathing. Kyle’s hands move from his lap to clutch at Stan’s arms, nails biting into Stan’s skin even through his t-shirt. Kyle kisses like he’s angry, like he’s starved, like he’ll never have this again—and it frightens Stan, just a bit.

They pull back when their lungs burn too much to continue. Stan takes in Kyle’s debauched expression and renewed blush, and wonders if he looks the same. “Stan, please,” Kyle brings him out of the daze. “I need this. I can’t—!” Kyle seems to lose his train of thought as he kisses Stan again, still desperate and still angry.

Stan is the first to pull back this time. His hands are gripping Kyle by the shoulder and holding him at arm’s length. He looks into Kyle’s lidded eyes and wonder how, exactly, they ended up here. He decides not to argue. “Okay.” He murmurs, pulling Kyle with him, maneuvering them to a more comfortable position. He moves the majority of their pillows against the edge of the bed, rests his back against them, and pulls Kyle into his lap.

Stan cups his face as Kyle leans down for another kiss. Kyle moans softly into Stan’s mouth and still clings to Stan’s arms for dear life. Stan kisses his best friend slowly; he’s still not entirely sure what’s happening, but he knows he doesn’t hate it and doesn’t necessarily want it to stop any time soon. His fingertips glide from Kyle’s chin down his neck and arms, to settle at his waist. He tugs the red head minutely closer as their kiss deepens. They pull apart for only seconds; just enough to breath deep before diving back in.

Stan is lost in Kyle’s mouth when a pressure covers his cock. He breaks the kiss with a gasp, looking down to see Kyle cupping a slightly shaking hand over the bulge in his pajama pants. “Kyle, what—you don’t have to, dude.”

Kyle looks up to catch Stan’s eye. “I want to.” He assures, squeezing for emphasis. Stan’s whole body jerks and he nearly knocks Kyle off his laugh. It gets a laugh from Kyle, which fills Stan with warmth. “Please, Stan,” Kyle continues once his laugh has died down. “Let me have this moment.”

His voice is far too serious and Stan hates the trickle of fear that runs in his veins at the sound. He gathers Kyle in his arms in lieu of a verbal answer. He tips them back, so that Kyle is flat on the floor and Stan hovers over him. “Okay.” Stan eventually says again. On his knees, Stan moves to undo the buttons of Kyle’s jeans. As the fabric slides down his hips, Stan is shocked by how icy his skin still is. “Fuck, dude, are you _still_ cold?”

Kyle shrugs, smacking Stan’s shoulder lightheartedly. His eyes are blown wide, very telling and alarming. Stan bites his own lip as he continues to undress his best friend. His mind feels sluggish and hazy. He’s still not totally sure _why_ he’s letting this happen. He could stop it at any time, could stop Kyle and try to talk some sense into him or at least kick Kyle out while they both try to deal with this…

But he doesn’t. Instead, Stan just carries on to a chorus of gasps falling from Kyle’s mouth. He lets himself be sucked in. He doesn’t even flinch when Kyle lends a hand and yanks Stan’s pajamas down. Their cocks, almost comically, spring together and the touch of skin has both of them hissing.

“What about your parents?” Kyle asks in a slow moment. He flicks his eyes to the doorknob; the bedroom door is shut, but not locked.

“My dad has already passed out and mom is… I dunno.. They aren’t gonna come in without knocking.” Stan assures. “They learned that the hard way.” He swallows Kyle laugh and smile with another ravishing kiss. “We probably shouldn’t be too loud.” He admits.

Kyle nods. “Okay.”

Stan braces himself over Kyle with an elbow digging into the carpet for stability. His free hand skirts down Kyle’s chest to where their cocks are gliding absently together. Stan grips their cocks together and the sensation has Kyle stifling a cry behind his hand. Stan smirks down at the red head and strokes them together leisurely, relishing the glare he gets in return.

Kyle loops his arms around Stan’s neck and pulls him in for another sloppy kiss where their teeth clack together and he bites Stan’s tongue sort-of-accidentally. Stan doesn’t react except to speed up his hand where it’s wrapped around their cocks. Kyle finds his cheekiness fading as the pleasure rises and clouds his mind. He spreads his legs wider and accepts Stan’s weight more firmly against him. Kyle wants to say something, break this somewhat odd silence with anything aside from their moans, but words are a far off idea at this point. He feels stifled and too hot in his clothes: his jeans are locked around his knees and have his legs sweating; he’s still tied up in his jacket and the t-shirt underneath and they’re beginning to stick to his chest with sweat.

He makes no attempt to free himself, though, because that would mean making Stan stop and that’s just _not_ an option. So Kyle moves closer to Stan even though the heat is verging on too much. Kyle rolls his hips into Stan’s grasp and relishes the way Stan’s own hips begin to move.

Stan is close, he can feel the pressure building in the base of his spine that tells him so, but he’s enamored with watching Kyle’s mind kick into overdrive. He’s not sure what’s running through Kyle’s head, but the expressions flittering across the red head’s face are as amusing as they are tantalizing. When Stan’s hand starts to cramp and he can feel his orgasm rushing at him, he bends and kisses Kyle again.

This kiss is, somehow, smoother. By some stroke of luck their lips fit perfectly together, and each movement is synchronized and perfectly timed, without them really meaning to. Stan licks into Kyle’s mouth and sucks on his tongue as he moans. Spit gathers and the kiss is maybe a bit messier than anything they’ve seen in the movies, but it’s _good_ , and makes both of them dizzy with arousal.

“Gonna come,” Stan warns breathily against Kyle’s lips.

“Same.” Kyle agrees.

Stan wants to kiss Kyle yet again, realizing that he’s fast becoming addicted to the feeling, but he also wants to watch Kyle come undone. He shifts his hand, letting go of his own cock to focus solely on Kyle’s. He grips a bit tighter and strokes a little faster. Kyle’s eyes widen ever slightly as they lock with Stan’s. His nails dig into Stan’s back, and if it weren’t for the soft blue shirt covering Stan’s skin, Kyle would surely be leaving welts.

Stan watches, far more fascinated than he’d care to admit. He watches the blush grow from the apple of Kyle’s cheeks all the way to his hairline, to his ears, down below the collar of his jacket and shirt. While it would normally look hilarious, here, and now, barely a breath apart, it’s all Stan wants to see for the rest of his life.

“Are you gonna come for me, Kyle?” Stan whispers.

Kyle nods, still looking dazed. His eyes flicker shut, as though they’re struggling to stay open; the motion of his hips grows jerky and crazed. His lips move with no sound, but Stan can see what he’s trying to say—

_Stan, Stan, oh fuck, shit, Stan—_

Kyle’s back arches like a bow and Stan feels his come spill over his fingers. Kyle lets out a moan, finally, and it’s far louder than either of them expected; it comes out rushed and high pitched, like an exhale that’s been held in too long.

Stan quickly lets go of Kyle’s cock in favor of grabbing his own. With Kyle’s spunk coating his fingers and palm, it’s hardly a minute before Stan is coming, arms shaking from the strain, spilling onto Kyle’s stomach and the hem of his jacket. It isn’t until the daze begins to fade that Stan realizes he’s been whispering Kyle’s name the entire time.

It’s not as embarrassing a realization as he expected.

They come down from the high slowly. They move sluggishly, but together. There’s no stiffness, no awkwardness in their coordination, just exhaustion and bone deep satisfaction. Stan strips off his t-shirt and wipes them clean with it, earning a laugh from Kyle again. Kyle finally strips—not even minding that Stan very clearly watches, very clearly enjoys the view—and changes into his pajamas.

“Wanna pop in _The Night Before_?” Kyle asks, bending to grab the DVD box, already moving to the TV and player.

“Sure.” Stan says even though he knows they’ll both be asleep before the first fifteen minutes have passed. All the same, he lets Kyle get the movie rolling before they settle onto the bed. They grab their pillows and blankets from the floor and cocoon themselves together. When Stan catches Kyle’s eyes, he’s delighted to see a pleased, foggy glaze over the bright green.

They curl together on the bed, Kyle’s back pressed into Stan’s chest so they both have a decent view of the screen. As Stan predicted, the movie has barely started before Kyle’s even snores fill the room.

)

_Because there's always time for second guesses, I don't want to know._

)

Stan wakes up far too fast, shooting up in his bed and worsening the headache beginning to throb. He looks around, immediately realizing the side of the bed where Kyle slept is empty and cold. He looks around just as Kyle slips back into the room from the hallway. Kyle stops where he stands, looking like a deer in headlights.

“I have to go.” He snaps, eventually. He offers no explanation to Stan, just those four words and he’s grabbing his backpack to leave.

“What? Kyle, wait a minute—!” Stan shifts to follow Kyle but instead ends up tangled in the blankets and falls face first to the floor.

Kyle has one foot out the door as he talks. “I’m sorry about last night, I won’t tell anyone, I really have to go.”

Stan looks up after he’s finally managed to free himself from the blankets. Kyle’s footsteps are soft but hurried as he flees the Marsh home, and Stan doesn’t even have the wherewithal to follow. He’s shirtless, it’s too early, and he’s not entirely sure what’s just happened.

)

_If you're going to be the death of me, that's how I want to go._

)

Stan glares at the door that’s just been ever so gently slammed in his face.

After he’d gotten dressed and after his headache had subsided at least a little, he went after Kyle. He called a few times to no avail, and hadn’t gotten an answer from any texts—though the receipt told him every message had been read. He’d eventually caved and gone to Kyle’s house, where he stood now.

Sheila had insisted that Kyle simply wasn’t feeling well and wasn’t allowed any visitors until the ‘fever’ was gone.

Stan knows it’s a lie, that there’s no fever, and he’s pretty sure Kyle isn’t home at all to begin with. He stays for a few more moments but leaves when he catches Sheila eyeing him from the kitchen. He turns on his heel and stalks off with the snow crunching beneath his feet. He makes a mental list of all the places Kyle might run to: it’s a weekend, he has all day, and there’s only so many places to hide in a town like South Park.

)

_You've got it all worked out with so little time, memories that I'd blackout if you were mine._

)

It isn’t until the sun is setting in hues of oranges, pinks, and purples that he wonders to Stark’s Pond. He’d checked there once, briefly, earlier in the day and hadn’t seen Kyle. Now, he simply makes a beeline for the pond to have a place, alone and quiet, to collect his thoughts.

He’s coming around the large snow covered pine tree when he sees Kyle, standing at the edge of the perpetually frozen pond. Stan creeps as softly as he can, but Kyle definitely hears him; the snow is rather noisy, and Kyle has always had a knack for knowing when Stan was trying to surprise him.

“Hey.” Kyle says without facing Stan. He keeps his gaze focused on the sunset reflected on the pond.

“Hey yourself.” Stan says, stopping a few feet behind his best friend.

“What’s up?”

Stan scoffs. “I dunno, dude. Had a great time with my super best friend last night and then, like, he _totally_ bailed on me this morning. Didn’t even kiss me goodbye or anything. Super lame.” Stan teases with an underlying tone of bitterness. When Stan is finally side by side with Kyle, he catches the brief look of shame on Kyle’s face.

“Last night shouldn’t have happened. It was stupid— _I_ was stupid. I let my dumb feelings get in the way a-and, it was unnecessary. You’re gonna go to CSU and I’m gonna go somewhere else and that’s that.” Kyle spits the words out as though they burn his tongue. “I shouldn’t have complicated everything.”

“Dude, how did you _complicate_ anything?” Stan barks, half laughing. “You know I was a willing participant, right? I could’ve turned you down or stopped it at any time. It’s not like you would’ve overpowered me or something.” Stan faces Kyle and only feels a little nervous when the red head doesn’t do the same.

“It didn’t mean to you what it meant to me.”

“What the fuck, who are you to decide what last night mean to me?” Stan clenches his fists at his sides; it’s not that he’d hit Kyle, more likely he’d force Kyle to look at him and Stan would probably kiss him at the worst possible moment. “Maybe, yeah, it wasn’t something I was expecting. It’s not like I haven’t thought about it before, cuz I _have_.

“I honestly just thought that’s how we were. Kind of homos, but not gonna talk about it.” Stan adds. The corners of Kyle’s lips tilt just for a moment, and it inspires deeper confidence in Stan. “I said I’d give you whatever you wanted, anything you needed, but how did you know I didn’t need that too?”

And god, it’s so fucking corny, it’s straight out of a Nicholas Sparks movie, but it feels so right to say. Even if he didn’t know it’s what they needed, it’s pretty clear it was meant to be. They moved together with awkwardness and perfection. Stan didn’t know he wanted it as badly as he had, but now he can’t imagine going another day without it.

“You know what they say when you make assumptions…” Stan trails off with a smirk. Kyle finally faces him and slaps him on the arm. Stan grins at catches Kyle’s hand when the red head goes to smack him again, and Stan links their fingers. “C’mon, we can make it work. I was gonna make it work even if we weren’t dating. You’re my whole fucking world, Kyle. I wasn’t gonna let something like _college_ or _distance_ get in the way of our friendship. And I’m sure as shit not gonna let anything interfere with us dating.”

Kyle rolls his eyes. “You’re such a Nicholas Sparks movie.” He taunts. Kyle tilts his head and leans up on his toes; the hand not tangled with Stan’s rests on his shoulder for balance. “Kiss me, dork.”

“Anything you need.”

)

_Show me your love, give me more but it's not enough. Show me your love before the world catches up._


End file.
